“Pandesians?” she wondered aloud, as Dierdre examined it, too.

Dierdre shook her head.

“Look at those boats,” she said. “They have foreign markings. They’re travelers, coming in off the sea. They all take the Tanis to cut through Escalon. I’ve seen many in Ur. Most are traders.”

As Leo whined beside her, Kyra felt a hunger pang in her stomach; yet she recalled her father’s warning to avoid others.

“What do you think?” Dierdre asked, clearly thinking the same thing.

Kyra shook her head, torn between a bad feeling and a desire for food and shelter, to get out of the rain and wind. She studied the tavern and her eyes narrowed in concern. She did not like the sounds coming from within its walls; they were the sounds of drunken men, she could recognize it anywhere from having grown up as the only girl in a fort filled with warriors. And she knew that when men drank, they looked for trouble.

“We will attract unwanted attention,” Kyra replied, “two girls, traveling alone.”

Dierdre frowned.

“Those are not soldiers,” she replied. “They are travelers. And that is no garrison, but a tavern. This will not be like encountering Pandesians. That was just bad luck back there. These men will be focused on their drink, not war. We can buy the food we need and leave. Besides, we have Andor, and Leo and you and your weapons. The Pandesian soldiers could not stop us back in the wood—do you really think a bunch of drunken sailors can?”

Kyra hesitated, uneasy. She understood her point of view, and she wanted to eat as badly as she—not to mention to take shelter, even if for a minute.

“I’m weak from hunger,” Dierdre said. “We all are. And I’ve never been so cold in my life. We can’t keep going on like this. We will die out here. You are shivering so badly, you don’t even realize it.”

Kyra suddenly realized her teeth were chattering, and she knew Dierdre had a point. They needed a break, even if for a few moments. It was risky—yet going on like this was risky, too.

Finally, Kyra nodded.

“We’ll get in and out,” she said. “Keep your head down. Stick close to me. And if any man comes for you, stick this in his gut.”

Kyra placed a dagger in her friend’s palm and looked up at her meaningfully. They were frozen from the cold, weak from hunger, tired of running from men, and Kyra could see in her friend’s eyes that she was ready.

Even so, as they rode out of the wood and into the clearing, towards the gushing river, closing in on the tavern, Kyra felt a deep foreboding overcome her—and she knew, even as she rode, that this was a very, very bad idea.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN